


Specialty

by 4_D_Alien



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Growing Up Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23587579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4_D_Alien/pseuds/4_D_Alien
Summary: As Jaebeom reflects back on his life, he realizes that his best friend since childhood is good at a lot of things. Park Jinyoung, however, is good at something that no one else could possibly be good at, and Jaebeom realizes it in bits and pieces as he matures.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	Specialty

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on this site, so hopefully there's more to come~thank you for reading!

Specialty

or, the story of two best friends co-parenting a little girl and swearing by the stars that there’s nothing more than friendship between them.

Oh, who am I kidding. I was in love with Jinyoung before I could even comprehend what love was.

We grew up together, just two houses down the road from one another. We saw each other every single day, and we were inseparable. Our mothers would watch us play and they’d smile to each other and to themselves, like they knew something we didn’t. It wasn’t until many, many years later that I knew what the smiles meant, because our friends started smiling, too, and I suddenly knew what they knew.

Jinyoung and I played together like any young children did, except for when we didn’t. I fell and hurt myself much more often than he did, he’d always been more agile than me, and when I did he’d do the most peculiar thing. It seemed normal at the time, but we were kids and didn’t know any better. He’d run inside his house and grab a brightly-colored Band-Aid to cover up whatever scrape I had managed to acquire, and he’d stick it on the wound and then kiss me on the forehead. When I asked him why, he’d just say, “Mama says that love makes everything better.” That was a good enough answer for me, and I never looked any farther into it. 

Jinyoung was always good at giving me love.

As we got older, past the naivety of childhood and into the rough patch known as puberty, I started noticing things. Not that I had been blind before, I was pretty perceptive, but these were things that I didn’t really know anything about. Like how Jinyoung’s eyes scrunched up when he smiled, or how he covered his mouth with his hand when he laughed, or how either of those things directed at me turned my heart into a professional gymnast. We hit high school, and then came sports and clubs and loads of schoolwork, but the only thing that mattered to me was Jinyoung. Jinyoung’s perfect scores on every test, Jinyoung being made captain of the volleyball team, Jinyoung making the honor roll. Rather than being jealous of his accomplishments, I admired him and all his hard work. I strived to put as much effort in as he did, to be as persevering and patient as him, because I realized that it brought good results for him. 

Jinyoung was always good at being a role model.

We were still best friends, still inseparable. You couldn’t call for one of us without getting the other as well, and our arguments were always petty debates that were easily resolved. We knew every little thing about each other, we were closer than brothers. And that was one thing that never changed. But what did change was when Jinyoung started to become a little quieter, a little more withdrawn, and it kind of scared me at first. Then I realized that I was going through similar things, though it manifested differently. I started speaking out more, speaking for both of us, keeping away those who sought to tear us down, the people who sought to tear everyone down. If people jabbed at Jinyoung for being quiet and smart, I was right there to defend him and keep them away. If people got on my case for being athletic and kind, Jinyoung would step in and tear them to pieces with a few quiet, but powerful words. We made up for what the other lacked, we kept each other going, we built each other up and supported each other with everything we had. We completed each other in the most literal sense, and people eventually stopped bugging us once they realized that nothing they said or did made any difference. 

Jinyoung was always good at giving me strength.

We enrolled in college together, and I think we can both confidently say that those were the worst years of our lives. School was brutal, work even more so, and we had been a little stupid in choosing to double major: him, in music performance and psychology; me, in music production and statistics. Both of us interned in our respective departments in the summer and worked six pm to midnight during the school year. I can’t say that college was fully horrible, though, as we met one of our best friends on our way to lecture one day. Mark, he said his name was, a transfer student from America coming over to study and work. The three of us bonded pretty quickly, and Mark’s boyfriend, Jackson, was introduced not long after, adding a new spice of life and excitement to our otherwise anti-social friend group. The fall of our senior year, Jackson somehow made friends with a boy named Bambam, who was in the year below us. The Thai male quickly asserted himself in our friendship group, dragging his best friend Yugyeom along with him, and chaos became our norm. We thought it couldn’t get any worse until one day Jinyoung and I heard some muffled crying coming from the restroom, and decided to step in to investigate (much to Jinyoung’s chagrin, as we were already late to a class). I never expected the guy crying over missing his dog at home to become such a loud, positive addition to our friendship group, but Jinyoung took an instant liking to him and immediately became protective over Youngjae, threatening severe bodily harm to whoever hurt the admittedly sensitive boy. Regardless, Jinyoung and I became the unofficial parents of this chaotic group, even though tensions were constantly high between Jinyoung and Yugyeom. 

Jinyoung was always good at being a friend.

Once we graduated, we really weren’t sure what we wanted to do with our lives. We wanted to stay in Korea, but we didn’t know what to do from there. Luckily, I snagged a deal at a record company producing tracks for them and Jinyoung got scouted as a model off the street. I would’ve been the first to admit that he was gorgeous, in a way that nobody could quite put into words. He made a huge break off one particular photoshoot for a popular magazine, and his fame skyrocketed. Suddenly, I was living with a celebrity, the stink of fame threatening to stuff up our small apartment that barely had room to fit the both of us. That was about the time that baby fever hit hard for both of us, despite neither of us having partners and certainly not the space to raise a child in. I caught him staring at the baby section one day when we were at the store, and we sat down and had a lengthy discussion once we got home. I kept refusing, despite knowing how much I craved being a parent, but Jinyoung kept pleading and pleading until eventually I caved.

Jinyoung was always good at being convincing.

Not long afterward, we moved into a cozy single-floor house just on the outskirts of Seoul. I worked from home, which was convenient, but it wasn’t too far from Jinyoung’s job, either, which was a double bonus. We had decided on adopting a little Korean girl named Yoona. She was about three years old and she had gorgeous brown eyes that absolutely enamored Jinyoung, and seeing him happy was more than enough for me. It was a bit tricky getting the papers through, since neither of us had spouses, but we eventually signed as co-parents and brought Yoona home within a week of the signing.

It was definitely tough at first, but we had an amazing friend group to help us out with babysitting and the like. Yoona became inexplicably attached to Jackson and Mark, and their names were among the first she learned. We always knew when they swung by, as Yoona spent a lot of time in the window seat in front of the house and would always scream their names if she saw their car pull up. Our five friends spoiled Yoona beyond belief; Bambam would constantly buy her mini versions of the designer clothing he always wore (which always got him a thorough scolding from Jinyoung), Yugyeom would take her out for ice cream and sweets, Youngjae would drag her to the mall and they’d have the time of their lives in the plushie stores, Jackson would teach her Chinese and take her on wild adventures throughout our house, and Mark would cuddle her on the couch and watch cartoons with her until she fell asleep. Her first Christmas with us was one of our wildest memories to date. Everything was loud and fun and happy and Jinyoung and I got to sit back and watch our daughter scream and run around with all five of her uncles, shooting each other knowing smiles.

Jinyoung was always good at appreciating the little things in life.

After the excitement of the first year died down, things settled into a more domestic routine for both of us. We’d both share duties around the house, and, while Jinyoung did most of the cooking, I enjoyed standing and watching him work, because he was fascinating. The way he moved, spoke, smiled at me when he noticed me watching him from the entrance to the kitchen, my unspoken invitation to come closer. It was even better up close; his movements were precise, graceful even, and he radiated a comforting vibe so powerful that it dragged me in one or two times to backhug him as he worked. He always adjusted to me, for me, and it was a simple act that held more weight than almost anything he’d ever done for me.

We were painfully domestic, our friends told us. And I guess I could tell where they were coming from, but Jinyoung and I were so comfortable around each other that there wasn’t really any difference for us. We both loved Yoona with every fiber of our being, and that was enough for us...until one day, when I realized it might not be.

I was standing in my usual spot by the fridge, watching Jinyoung cook just like every night. Yoona was spending the night with Jackson and Mark, as Jackson had promised Yoona a Disney marathon and Mark was a sucker for both of them. Her absence only made the moment more intimate, and as I stood watching Jinyoung prepare some kind of soup his mom had given him the recipe for, the feeling crept up on me. It wasn’t sudden or shocking like some fanfictions describe, but more like the sun coming over the horizon, a calm acceptance and a quiet wonder of why I didn’t realize it sooner. The realization that I loved Jinyoung wasn’t completely out of left field; rather, I think I had been in love with him for years and simply never acknowledged it. Then the rush of emotion came, the sucker punch of caring and helpless, hopeless love for the man standing in front of me, framed by domesticity and warmth and all the things that just made me love him more. Jinyoung, still oblivious to my plight and the sudden tears building up in my eyes, was understandably startled when I grasped him by the waist, twirling him around to press his body against the fridge and my lips against his. A squeak of surprise left him and the sound was so him, so Jinyoung that tears started spilling down my cheeks, adding a salty edge to the kiss. For a split second I was terrified, afraid that I had destroyed over two decades worth of friendship with a single action, but then Jinyoung melted into me, kissed me back, pulled me impossibly closer, and I relaxed. We only pulled apart when the pot on the stove started to boil over, and Jinyoung looked me in the eyes, locked me with a single gaze, and I understood. He turned back to his cooking, and I resumed my position against the fridge. Not a word was said to each other for the rest of the night, but we knew.

Jinyoung was always good at reading me.

It was maybe a month later when we actually addressed it at all. Sometime after the kiss, Jinyoung had started coming into my room and sleeping with me in my bed, saying that he was cold. It had turned into a routine of sorts; every night he’d come in, and every night I’d cuddle him until we both fell asleep. One night, Jinyoung had come in per usual, and we’d laid in bed, my hand tangled in his hair, until he looked up at me. “I think I love you,” he’d said, voice soft. I smiled a bit and scooted a little closer, murmuring an, “I think I love you, too,” before we both fell asleep, wrapped in the bedsheets and each other.

Jinyoung was always good at being straightforward.

Again, we settled into a routine of casual kisses on the cheek, murmured “I love yous” at night, and slowly we learned what it meant to be a couple. Our dates were few and far between, but we enjoyed just being near each other, and we loved every second spent together and with our daughter. It wasn’t until two years later that I proposed, when we were in bed again. All it took was a simple, “Marry me, Jinyoung?” and a simple ring that looked beautiful on him, and we were engaged, Our friends flipped out when we told them, which was kind of amusing, as they had had no clue that we had ever been dating in the first place. Every single one of them fought over who would get to be best man, and I eventually put a stop to it by nominating Mark, causing Jinyoung to dissolve into giggles. 

The first time Jinyoung and I were ever intimate wasn’t a planned event. The time felt right for both of us and it just happened, slow and passionate lovemaking as opposed to the quick one-and-done so many people seem fond of these days. Regardless, it was perfect, and it drew us closer than we ever thought possible. Hearing, seeing, feeling each other in that way drew us even further into each other as we transitioned from Jaebeom and Jinyoung into JaebeomandJinyoung. We became one long before any official documents or religious leader ever proclaimed us so and, as everything with us, it felt more natural than breathing.

Our wedding came all too fast, and it was an extremely emotional day all around. Only our families and our small friend group came, the wedding was officiated by a young friend of Bambam’s named Chris, who also coincidentally mixed the music for our reception, and everything was beautiful. Yoona, now a gorgeous girl of nine, was our flower girl, and Markson’s son Daniel was the ringbearer. Everyone in the audience was crying their eyes out, and it was all so cliche for a minute before I looked Jinyoung in the eyes, saw the glint of amusement and affection there, and knew. 

Jinyoung was always good at loving me, even if I was a little too young or a little too dumb or a little too blind to realize it. I don’t regret the journey we had, though, because I imagine heaven feels a little something like this.


End file.
